Where Angels Burn
by Tabula Rasa
Summary: (Tom/Ginny) It was over in the Chamber, right? Not quite so. Tom Riddle is back and tracking his ghostly footprints all over the life of now-fifteen year old Ginny Weasley.
1. Prologue :: So It Begins

Random Author's Note: Well, lookit me. Starting a new Tom/Ginny fic two days before I'm supposed to go back to school. *shakes head* Well, here goes nothing. 

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Disclaimer: Tom, Ginny and the rest of the cast from the _Harry Potter_ books are the property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishers, Raincoast Books, Scholastic, etc, etc. I'm merely borrowing them for a somewhat twisted joy ride. 

Chapter Notes: As said in the random author's note above, this is my new Tom/Ginny fic. Won't really start out that way, and is probably going to be epic size, with the later chapters rather long (this is short, as it's the prologue) and/or slow coming at times, so please, bare with me and be patient. Warnings include sexual innuendoes, possible situations, screwing with people's minds, things not being what they appear to be, possible time/dimension hopping, possible wonderful use of miscellaneous resources, like the Akashic Records, astral projection and loveliness like that. And the utmost warning is that this first chapter was written whilst listening to the _Labyrinth_ soundtrack. 

Shall we begin now? Good. Sit down, buckle your seat belts, you're in for a bumpy ride. Exits are located in the direction of the 'x' button at the upper right side of the screen, feel free to leave at anytime. 

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How you turned my world, you precious thing   
You starve and near exhaust me   
Everything I've done, I've done for you   
I move the stars for no one   
~ _Within You_, Labyrinth Original Soundtrack

**Where Angels Burn**

**Prologue**

**So It Begins**

3 August, 1996

It was a rather dark and stormy night, one of the nights that is perfect for the weaving an old gothic tale. Which was what one Ginny Weasley was doing, at the point in time of twelve twenty-seven in the morning. The only noise in her room was that of her breath, which occasionally pushed itself through her lips in sighs of frustration. Although once in awhile, there was the slight scratchy sound of her quill doodling on the edge of the piece of parchment she held, supported underneath by her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. 

No, Ginny wasn't doing her homework. That had all been finished during the first two weeks of summer, by her mother's strict orders. After all, Molly Weasley didn't want anything to contradict with her third eldest son's wedding to his long-time girlfriend. The entire Burrow had been in an uproar for the last few weeks with last minute planning and people Apparating in and out of the area. Ginny was rather surprised that the nearby Muggles didn't even notice anything. 

_Bam!_ The sound of thunder cut in on her thoughts, causing her to jump slightly. And just when she thought the storm was dying down, too. 

Ginny sighed once more and looked down at the bare piece of parchment. It looked rather lonely, compared to scrolls of homework essays and the beginnings of other things. One of the other things was something that Ginny was determined to write. There was about a month left of summer vacation and she still hadn't done anything worthwhile with her time. And since so much of it was spent dodging out of people's ways, she had decided to do something productive with her time. 

And that productive thing was to write a story. And therein lay the problem. She simply didn't have anything to write about. The few fantasy tales she had started upon had never got any further than a few dozen paragraphs or so, as they all sounded too contrived, too alike to every other book out there. And besides, the definition of fantasy was an odd one. Muggles found the world she lived in to be filled with fantastical objects and people, so the boundaries of fantasy were definitely skewed in Ginny Weasley's opinion. 

With another sigh, the red-haired girl gently placed her parchment down on the ground beside her slippers. She definitely had a huge amount of writer's block going on at the moment and the block wasn't getting any smaller. 

And after all, Percy and Penelope's wedding was tomorrow - _well, today_, Ginny corrected herself, checking the clock in her room. And she didn't really think they would appreciate it if she dropped in the middle of the wedding and began to sleep. So therefore, the logical thing for her to do was to turn off the light. That, and shut the window. Even though it was slightly stuffy in her room, the wind might suddenly change direction and start blowing the rain into her room as she slept. Which would not be a good thing, as her floor would leak. And since her room was right above the kitchen, it would leak into the kitchen and cause all sorts of messes. 

With those thoughts, Ginny climbed out from under her covers and quickly walked over to the window. It was open all the way and she was struck with the sudden urge to go outside. She stuck her head outside for a moment and inhaled the water-heavy air. The precipitation had stopped now and the only signs that there had been a thunderstorm were the occasional, softer rumblings of thunder every few minutes or so. It was chilly out, something to be expected at this time of night and after the thunderstorm. Ginny shivered slightly in thin, cotton nightgown and drew back from the window. 

There was something out there. The realization dawned on her in a flash. Squinting to see in the dark, Ginny stuck her head back outside the window, feeling slightly apprehensive. After all, who knew what nasties and beasties were out in the dark hours of the night, now that the Dark Lord was back? But as the familiar sound of the flapping wings of an owl met her ears, she relaxed and her fears subsided. For now, at least. 

The red-haired girl leaned back into her room as the owl came closer and closer. One it was inside her bedroom, the owl immediately let something drop to the floor. The owl, which was a reddish-brown in colour, swooped around the room once, then exited through the window it had came through. 

Curious, Ginny picked up the small, rectangular package that the owl had dropped. It had landed with a somewhat loud thud and she stood there for a moment, unsure if anyone had heard it and was going to come barging into her room, demanding to know exactly what she was still doing up at this ungodly hour. But no one came. 

The package was small and flat, like one of those Muggle DC cases, or something. Her father talked about them quite often now. It was covered in brown paper, which was common to any package. Her name was written on the package, in careful, precise script. And there were no warnings on it, saying "Do not open until such-and-such a date". So, therefore, she had free reign on when to open it. 

Quickly, her fingers and nails tore apart the brown paper packaging to reveal a small, black book. A sense of foreboding entered Ginny's mind as she slowly turned it over in her hands. It was so much like another book . . . 

_Stop it, now_. Ginny ordered herself. _You are not going to go there_. Supressing memories was a wonderful thing to be able to do, but Ginny wasn't quite at the master level of that craft now. _It's not the same, it can't be. It was destroyed._ She repeated this mantra over and over in her head as she stood there, clutching the book tightly in her hands.   
  
She must have stood there for at least five minutes, Ginny slowly came to realize. Her fingers were beginning to ache from the tight grip they held the book in. She didn't want to open it, but she had to. Slowly, ever so slowly, she pulled the cover of the book open, expecting to see the words that were in the other book. In _his_ book. She drew in a deep shuddering breath as she forced her eyes to go to the place where she expected to see his words. But there were none. 

The breath that Ginny had been holding in came rushing out in what seemed to be a great gust. Her knees felt weak with relief. She placed the small, blank-paged black book on her desk, leaving it open to the first, thankfully blank page and turned to close the window. But the fluttering of a piece of paper as it fell to the ground interupted her path. She picked it up, wondering what it could be. 

_Just because something doesn't appear to be the same, Ginny love, doesn't mean it isn't.___

The words, in _his _hand writing. Ginny felt the butterflies of terror fly their way back into her stomach as she stared at the note. A shiver slowly made its way up her spine, thoroughly chilling her to the bone. _Not possible, it was destoryed!_ Her mind cried out against this, against this thing which should not be possible. _The diary is supposed to be destoryed. Harry had said so, Professor Dumbledore had said so, so had Mum and Dad!_ The thoughts of disbelief crowded against each other in her head, ringing out loud and clear. 

It seemed almost like her hands were moving of their own accord, first ripping the small piece of paper - the note from _him_ - into shreds, then crumpling it in her fist, clenching her fingers together so tightly she could feel her nails beginning to dig into the flesh of her palm. She picked up the diary with the other hand, holding it between her thumb and forefinger as if it were something unholy - which, to everyone, it was. 

Getting rid of me so soon, Ginny love?

The words rose to the top of the page as she carried it to the window. A shuddered gasp ripped its way from Ginny's throat as she stopped sudden. The air seemed to drop quite a few degrees, rendering it seemingly freezing in the room to the girl. The words died away rapidly, as if they had never been there in the first place. However, the purpose to that was soon discovered, as more words, written in the old-fashioned script, appeared. 

There was a time when you weren't so eager to get rid of me. Remember, pet?

"Stop it," Ginny whispered, staring at the diary, transfixed. "Stop it." It was no use telling the diary to stop, it wouldn't. She had whispered those words to it countless times in her first year and they had no effect then. So why should they now? 

Don't you love me anymore, Ginny?

Those were the next words to take the place of the previous sentences. She could picture his face perfectly, the pained expression on his face as he asked her the question. She could hear his voice, hear the utter innocence that he could command into his voice, the silken tones that made her shiver with each request. 

Ginny firmly shut the diary, so that she would not have to see his writings any more. Somehow, by some dark magic, the diary had been restored. And sent to her, as a cruel joke, or the sender had thought she would be easily manipulated back into the spot she had been in when she was eleven. But she wasn't that shy, naive child any more. No, no, no. 

Swallowing hard, she walked over to the window and uncerimoniously dropped the diary out of it. She opened her palm and let the scraps of the note fall into the night air as well. She firmly shut the window and locked it. She didn't wany anything else unwanted to come back through it. No, that would destroy her. Then would come the psychiatric visits to St. Mungo's again . . . 

The thought trailed off and Ginny shuddered. She remembered the frequent trips to the hospital so soon after the end of her first year. She had been sent to a psychiatrist there by her parents, they had hoped to find something wrong with her, some reason why she had let herself be swindled by the Dark Lord. Of course, the psychiatrist hadn't called it swindled. No, Ginny recalled with a twisted smile. They had said she had been seduced by the Dark Lord. After all, if she had let him take her over so fully, that's what it deserved to be called. 

With those dark thoughts, Ginny Weasley climbled into her bed and turned out the light. She lay there, under the covers and shivered for an unknown reason. She would not touch the diary, she had thrown it out the window. That would surely show whoever had sent it to her that she didn't want it. 

But still, it felt like Tom Riddle had crawled out of the diary and was tracking his ghostly footsteps all over her life once more. 

With a final shiver, Ginny closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep. But her dreams were not restful. She dreamed of snakes, of dark corridors, of mocking laugher, of red roses edged with black ink. She had found numerous ones in her dorm room when she was in first year. It was as if someone had taken a blood-red rose and dipped it in a bottle of ink. They had stopped after the Chamber incident. 

Lost deep in her dreams, Ginny felt the brush of a dream-rose. Her body shuddered as she slumbered on. 


	2. Chapter One :: Time Manipulates Your Hea...

Random Author's Note: You know, this story is probably only going to end up proving to me that a sane person does not plot out fanfic at 4 in the morning the day before she's supposed to go back to school. And it's been a helluva back-to-school week. *le sigh* 

Thanks to the Reviewers: And here we go: Professor Weasley, Nathonea, Kiyoko, Chocolate Muse, Snicks, Caroline X, Sailor Leo, the Marauders' Legacy. Schnoogles to the lot of you. Schnoogles as well to Rhianna for letting me cameo her in this part. :D 

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Friendly Neighbourhood Disclaimer: You-Know-Who, Ginny and the rest of the peanut gallery belong to JK Rowling and assorted publishers. I'm just screwing with their personalities/psyches. 

Chapter Notes: Wizard weddings are fun things to make up. You take a pinch of a traditional church one, add a dash of a handfasting, mix well and hand to the local High Priest/Priestess. Or something like that. So yeah, I kind-of used the idea of the Wiccan handfasting for P&P's wedding. Ballroom dream scene very much inspired by the bubble-ballroom scene in _Labyrinth_ and the masquerade scene of _The Phantom of the Opera_. And the ink-tipped roses? Well, that idea is a whole 'nother story. See, one day, I was sitting around and there were roses on the table from me mum's birthday. And I was bored with my calligraphy set. So I take a rose and dip in ink and then I . . . get very off-track. Story beginning now. Presto! 

Will someone please inform those annoying pop-up ads that they need to bugger off while I am searching for Savage Garden lyrics as I am too lazy to transcribe my own? Seriously though, story now. 

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We twist and turn where angels burn,   
Like fallen soldiers we will learn   
That once forgotten, twice removed   
Love will be the death, the death of you.   
~ _Tears of Pearl_, Savage Garden

**Where Angels Burn**

**Chapter One**

**Time Manipulates Your Heart**

  
  


"Ginny, up!" The two words were the first ones that awakened Ginny the following day. Blinking in her bed and stretching her arms, Ginny wondered why she felt so tired. Then the memories of last night came rushing back. The diary and the note. She stopped, lying stock-still in her bed. However, that paralysis only lasted a split-second. Instantly, she threw back the covers and raced toward the window. Flinging it open, she looked down at the ground, half-expecting the diary to be where she had let it drop. But the hedges were clean of any small black books. 

A smile slowly spread across the freckled face of Ginny as she stood at the window. 

"Oi, aren't you supposed to be getting ready, Gin?" Her happy thoughts were interrupted by the rather loud voice of George from below. 

"What?" Ginny blinked, her line of sight changing so that she saw her older brother. 

"Stop staring out the window. I know the hedges are a bleeding lovely sight first thing in the morning, but Hermione's here and you two have to help Penelope get ready." George yelled back. 

"Will you stop yelling?" Percy walked up to George. His hair was disarrayed and he looked rather frantic, with his wide eyes behind his horn-rimmed glasses. "You're supposed to be helping Charlie set up the chairs!" 

"Relax, Perce, we still have five hours." George grinned. 

However, that only seemed to cause Percy's panic to rise a few notches. "Five hours?" His voice rose not only in pitch, but in volume. "Oh, Gods, I have so much to do!" With that, he hurried off in the direction from which he had come. 

Ginny shook her head, laughing. She then ducked back inside her room and closed the window. She then quickly changed into some old clothes, after all, she was going to be dressed up soon enough, so she didn't really need to worry about her appearance now. 

"Ginny!" There was her mother again. 

"Coming, mum!" Ginny called downstairs, before preceding down the staircase herself. 

The sight that met her eyes could easily be defined as surpassing chaos. 

"Out, out, out!" were the first words that Ginny heard from the room. "Out!" And clearly, they were directed at her. Eyes widening at the general hubbub of things, Ginny ducked back into the hallway. Where she was almost immediately run over by Percy. 

"So many things to do, so many things . . . " he was muttering to himself. And talking to one's self is not too healthy. _Well, at least he's not answering himself,_ Ginny rationalized. 

"Every thing all right, Percy?" she asked rather hesitantly. 

Percy stopped and turned to stare at her. He blinked, as if just noticing she was there. "Oh, Ginny. Uh, Penny's in the bride's tent. You should go there too, get ready and help her get ready. I have so many things to do." With that, he turned and hurried off to somewhere else. 

"This is going to be a long day," Ginny predicted half-heartedly as the sound of a rather loud crash emanated from the kitchen area. She sighed and walked outside, to where the tent where the bride and her bridesmaids and attendants were getting ready. 

And she was right. Between last-minute dress adjustments, making sure everything looked perfect, helping her mother in the kitchen and quite a few miscellaneous other things, the time of the wedding was almost right on top of hem before Ginny noticed. 

"Okay, Maria goes out first, then it's you Ginny, then goes . . . " Ginny nodded as Penelope told them what to do for the umpteenth time. It was almost time for the actual ceremony to start. 

The curly-haired bride fell silent for a moment as the strains of music began to trickle into the tent where she was. "Maria!" 

"I know, Penny," one of Penelope's friends grinned. "My turn." She stepped out of the tent and out of sight. 

Ginny mentally counted to ten, then followed the dark-haired girl. She was quite nervous about tripping or doing something equally stupid that would generally cause an imperfection in the wedding. Right before she was about to walk down the aisle, she was met by Oliver Wood, who flashed her a smile and then took her arm. He was one of Percy's ushers at the wedding, which was unsurprising, as they were good friends. As she walked, Ginny made sure to take slow, careful steps that would give her no cause to trip. Not for the first time, she wondered if Penelope had only made her a bridesmaid in her wedding because Percy had asked her. 

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today," the minister-like person presiding over the wedding was an official from the Ministry of Magic. In front of her was a table that held the items that were commonly used in a wizarding wedding. Ginny had only been to one other, which had been her Aunt Persephone's wedding. There was the cord, which would be wrapped around the hands of the bride and groom, the official's wand, the pair of wedding rings, the goblet of water, the small cake of earth, the candle and a feather. 

Ginny heard the murmur of the crowd sitting in the chairs. She looked at the people for a moment, before turning her eyes to see Penelope walking down the aisle in her long, immaculately white wedding robes. She was being escorted by her father, who had such a grin on his face, if it got any wider, it would very likely crack his face. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Percy grinning like a mad-man. When Penelope reached the altar, she hugged her father before turning to the official. 

The official - her name was Rhianna Rouxal - looked at the bride and her father, "Penelope Rowane Clearwater, is it the truth that you come to this of your own free will and accord?" 

Penelope nodded, "yes, it is true." 

"With whom do you come and whose blessings accompany you?" Rhianna continued. 

"She comes with me, her father, and is accompanied by the blessings of her family," Penelope's father said. 

"Very well," Rhianna nodded. She picked up the cord and tied it loosely around the wrists of Percy and Penelope. With a tap of her wand, the knot in the white cord disappeared and it was a whole circle. "With this cord, round in it's shape of eternity, I tie thy hands in presence of all here. It is a symbol of your love." 

Rhianna then turned to Penelope once more and Ginny shifted slightly. The shoes she was wearing were uncomfortable. They had been fine for the first hour she had been in them, but now they were just plain killing her feet. She wondered briefly if she could just slip out of them and stand there in her dress. After all, it was floor length. She fidgeted now. Weddings were really boring, once you got down to it. Especially if you were one of the attendants and you were expected to stand there for quite some time, being perfectly still and smiling a fake smile. 

"But nothing's going to happen," Ginny muttered to herself. 

"What?" one of the other attendants whispered, giving her a curious look. 

Ginny shook her head in reply, to signal nothing. She sighed once more. But then again, whenever someone says nothing is going to happen, something - usually of the worst kind - most likely will. 

"By the powers of the earth, the wind, the flame and the water, I bless these rings." Rhianna was saying now. She tapped her wand to each of the four items representing the elements, then tapped the pair of rings. The rings seemed to glow for a moment, then stopped. She handed them to Percy and Penelope who put them on each other's ring fingers. 

Instantly, the cord around their wrists vanished. Ginny had to smile as the newly married couple kissed. It was good for them to have such happiness now. Now, it was time for the reception at a hall that Penelope's parents had rented. Which meant there would be food, something Ginny felt herself in need of. 

There would be Portkeys to take them there - well, the people who couldn't Apparate, which Ginny was among the numbers of. As the wedding party dispersed, she heard snippets of conversation. 

"Such a beautiful wedding," her mother was saying to one of her friends. 

"Of course," her mother's friend replied. 

"Can't wait to go to the reception, I'm starved." That voice was all too recognizable as Ron's. He was talking to Harry and Hermione. Hermione was searching for something in her pockets. 

"Where is it?" she asked, her tone somewhat frantic. 

"Oh, hey, Gin," Ron noticed his sister. 

"Hi," Ginny smiled back. "Standing for two hours in high heels isn't advised." 

"I'll keep that in mind," her brother replied dryly. "Hermione, what are you looking for?" 

"My bracelet," Hermione said, her expression growing more and more worried. "It must have fallen out of my pocket." 

"We'll help you look for it," Harry said. 

"Of course," Ginny chimed in. "It must be around here somewhere." She paused, confused for a moment. "Did you try a Summoning Charm?" 

"Yes," Hermione said, beginning to look sharply at the ground, "but it didn't work." 

However, before the four of them could start to look for Hermione's missing bracelet, Ginny's mother had hurried over to them. 

"There you two are," she smiled. "Come along, now." 

"What for?" Ron was curious and puzzled. 

"Because Penny's about to toss her bouquet and you two are unmarried." Molly Weasley said, taking each girl by the arm. 

"Mum, I'm only fifteen!" Ginny protested as she was led away from her mother. 

"And I've only started dating," Hermione chimed in. 

"It's a tradition," Molly Weasley insisted and let go of the girls as they reached the destination. 

"Mum, it's a stupid one," Ginny tried a last-ditch effort to get out of the silly tradition. 

"Stupid or not, it is one," Molly Weasley smiled, then walked away. 

"All right, is everyone ready?" Standing on a platform a few feet away was the bride herself. Penelope smiled slightly self-consciously and fiddled with the bouquet. It was made of different shades of roses, picked for their different meanings. Yellow ones, pink ones, white ones and red ones. There were sprigs of other small flowers amidst the roses, but she didn't really remember the names of them. "Well, here you go." 

With that sentence, Penelope tossed the bouquet into the small crowd of single, unmarried women. It bounced a few times as some of them scrambled for it at the same time as others. Ginny stood in silence, watching a few petals fall off the roses as they were all but manhandled by the females. 

Of course, most surprising to everyone there, was that the bouquet fell from the hands of the scrambling women. Into the unexpecting hands of Ginny Weasley, who seemed to be the most surprised out of everyone. 

Ginny blinked as she looked down at the bouquet. There seemed to be a few people talking in disappointed voices, but they sounded farther away than they were supposed to. And the smell of the roses seemed to be stronger than it should have been. It was sickly-sweet and almost like a haze around her. As she looked down at the roses, the tips of them seemed to be growing darker and darker. 

Almost like someone was dipping them in ink. 

That was when the sharp, throbbing pain in her fingers set in. With a slightly cry, Ginny released the bouquet and it fell to the ground. As it fell, a few petals came loose and the flowers seemed to loose their ink-stained tips. 

"What's wrong, Ginny?" Hermione was asking. But she sounded so far away 

Ginny looked down at her hands and saw the spots of blood flecking her fingers. "Pricked my finger," she said, rather dazedly. She picked up the bouquet, careful to hold it so that she didn't get any more pricks from the thorns. 

"That's not right," Penelope was by them now. "The flowers were charmed to be thorn less." 

"Let me see," Hermione requested and Ginny complied by handing over the bouquet. 

Hermione examined the stems of the roses as Ginny herself examined her hands. There were about a dozen little cuts from thorns, all of which seemed to be stopping bleeding soon. 

"There aren't any thorns," Hermione handed the bouquet back to Ginny, sounding confused. 

"That's odd," Ginny said, looking back down at the flowers. They were normal, absent of any ink staining. 

"Here, loves," another woman broke in on their conversation. "A Portkey to the hall." Hermione took it and the woman walked off, presumably to hand out more Portkeys. 

"I think I'm just going to go lie down," Ginny said, "I'm not feeling well." 

"But you'll miss all the fun," Penelope protested. 

"I just don't feel well," Ginny insisted, heading toward the house. She walked through the people, hurrying almost to the point of running. 

Something was wrong. The world wasn't supposed to be spinning around like this. Especially on the staircase. Ginny stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath. She could hear the chatter outside gradually decreasing as the Portkeys began to take effect. She slowly continued to go up the stairs and only stopped when she reached her room. The bouquet of roses was placed on her dresser and she herself sat down heavily on her bed, her breath becoming shallow. 

Maybe a glass of water would do her some good? It was a random thought in her head, snatched at because it offered some sort of sanity. As she stood up, her world felt like it was spinning again. She closed her eyes and it felt like she fell backwards until she bumped into something. Opening her eyes, she saw a crowd of people surrounding her. 

Whirling, twirling, spinning, dizzying. Her feet were spinning beneath her as she was being turned by the surging crowd around her. She put out her hands and tried to stop, but she only ended up with her hands flopping against the people. She felt helpless and everything was a blur. 

Quite suddenly though, it stopped. She stumbled slightly, wondering why the spinning motion had stopped. She put a hand to her forehead, trying to quell the dizziness she felt. This wasn't right. Glancing forward, Ginny found herself looking at her reflection. Her brow creased in confusion. Had she inadvertently touched a Portkey that took her to the hall where Percy and Penelope were having their wedding party? She shifted her attention to the reflection of the crowd in the mirror. 

"They aren't the guests," she realized. Not one of the people there was recognizable as a person who had attended the wedding. Her confusion only increased ten-fold. Everyone in the reflection was dressed elegantly, but there was something that was off about them. They all seemed to be wearing masks. Male, or female, it didn't seem to matter. They all wore masks that covered the top half of their faces. It was a blank, silver mask with not decoration at all. It was rather chilling, to see eyes peering out from behind those expression-less masks. She shivered. Not only were the faces chilling, it seemed that the temperature had dropped a few good degrees. And she was only wearing a light summer dress. 

"Care to dance?" the voice was at her left and belonged to a stranger. 

"Um, not really," Ginny replied, both wary and hesitant. There was music playing, but she couldn't identify the source. Or exactly what the song was. It sounded like a waltz, the three beat measures of the waltz was of the few things that she remembered from when Bill had taken piano lessons. Without further comment or questioning, the stranger who had been talking to her was suddenly whirled away by others. 

A harsh laughter met her ears suddenly and Ginny's eyes searched to find who had laughed. It was the same tone he would use, but he wasn't there. And it wasn't his voice, anyway. It was a woman's voice. Quickly, she found the origin to be a pair of girls who looked to be around the same age as her. And they looked somehow familiar, even with the masks. 

One had brown hair pulled back in a sleek bun and a mocking smile played on her lips. She had been the one who was laughing harshly. Ginny's eyes flickered to the other woman and saw that she had long, dark hair that was plaited. Both girls wore dresses, - the brunette wore one of periwinkle, while the darker one wore a dress of fuschia - not like dress robes, which Ginny had seen at the Yule Ball in fourth year. 

The pair of women looked up at Ginny and smirked in unison. Then they too, moved off into the crowd, leaving Ginny standing alone once more. 

_Is there anyone here that I know?_ She silently cried, in her mind. Her eyes wandered to the large mirror once more, studying the crowd. 

The room that she was in was reminiscent of a large ball room, but the resemblance to the Great Hall at Hogwarts was striking. Except the Great Hall did not have mirrors lining the walls. Or a marble floor. Or pillars in it. Ginny blinked, still rather confused. But her eyes roved over the mirror, looking for a familiar face. Or familiar hair, to tell her who was the face behind the mask. 

That's when she saw them. Her family was on the other side of the room, sitting on some couches and some chairs. _I thought they were at the reception,_ Ginny said to herself, confusion becoming mixed with irritation. _Exactly what is going on?_

"Well, I'm going to find out," she muttered to no one in particular. She was about to turn away from the mirror and go to them, ask them what was going on. But something in the mirror caught her eye. 

Or rather, some_one_. 

"Oh, dear gods, no." Ginny whispered under her breath as her eyes widened, but stayed focused on that one spot, on that one face. Flame red eyes stared back at her, a mocking smile playing on pale lips. 

He was nearer to her than her family, standing completely and utterly still on the marble floor. It was as if he were the focal point of some painting, being the only stationary thing in a sea of whirling people. His pants were black and his shirt was white, like many of the other males in the room. He wasn't wearing a normal coat, but one that was long and red. It looked old-fashioned as well. 

"No, no, no, no, no, no, _no._" Ginny whispered, inching away from the spot where she was. She tried to take her eyes off of him, but it felt like her line of sight had been permanently altered to see him. As if he could hear her protestations, the cold smile on Tom's face grew. 

She wrenched her gaze from him and looked over to where her family was. This time, she noticed they were all dressed in black and were sitting stiffly, like statues. _I have to get to them_, Ginny thought as she pushed her way through the crowd. 

"Leaving so soon, love?" someone asked and before Ginny could voice her protestation, she felt herself be drawn into the dance. 

"I have to go," she said, trying to get out of the stranger's grip. 

"Cinderella isn't supposed to leave the ball until midnight," the stranger said, his tone like that of a warning. 

"Please," Ginny said, looking over the stranger's shoulder to where her family was. Her eyes then darted around the room again, looking for Tom. She couldn't see him now. And the stranger was twirling her round and round and round. 

"If you insist," the stranger smiled and released her from his arms. However, he sent her spinning into the crowd. 

And in the crowd, she instantly bumped into another person. 

"Sorry," Ginny murmured, placing a hand to her forehead to quell the dizzy spell that was taking her over. 

"Quite all right, dear," someone took her hand away from her forehead and then placed another hand on her waist. 

Ginny looked up into a pair of grey eyes. 

"I've been waiting to dance with you, love." The new stranger smiled as he danced with her to the waltz. 

"What?" This was quite confusing for Ginny. "Waiting for me?" 

"Yes, but he's been waiting longer," the stranger said, with all the air of a wizened man. 

"He?" Monosyllabic words seemed to be the forte of her vocabulary at the moment. Ginny looked at her family once more. They were still sitting like statues upon the couches. They hadn't even moved an inch from when she had last seen them. 

"Yes," the stranger said, forcing her to move in time with him. However, he soon released her and spun her around. Instead of taking her back to finish the dance, the stranger left her to spin and stumble into the crowd. 

_This really is not fun_, Ginny thought wryly as she stumbled and tried to keep her balance. When she was doing so, she backed up into someone. "Oh, sorry." 

"Don't be, Ginny love." 

With those words, she froze. Of all the people in the room, she had to bump into him. Of course, it was Murphy's law. _Damn you, Murphy_. Ginny thought. It was pretty much all she could do at the moment. It seemed that her limbs had stopped working. He seemed to always have that effect on her. 

"Hello, Tom." Ginny whispered as she felt him place his hand on her waist. 

"Missed me, love?" his mouth was right near her ear and she could feel the air from his lips when he breathed. The fingers of his other hand were twining around hers and she felt her own hand move to hold his. 

Ginny remained silent. She tried to push his hand off of her waist, but it wasn't working. He was still too strong for her. 

"Look at me, Ginny love." His tone was commanding. Which was all the more reason why she turned her face away from him. 

"No." Ginny looked at her family. They were all turned to her now, looking at her with large, sad eyes. The expressions on their faces was akin to betrayal. 

Without warning, he suddenly released her and she fell forward, without the support. However, she did not fall to the ground. Tom grabbed her arm tightly and wrenched her around to face him. 

"Did you really think that you could get rid of _me_?" he demanded coldly. His face was set with anger, and his eyes were now a blazing coal colour. 

"Let go of me." Ginny cried, pulling back. Her arm felt like it was going to bruise. Around them, the dancers continued to move in time with the music. 

"Certainly, Ginny love." Tom pushed her away from him abruptly. 

She fell to the ground with a thud which made her head spin. She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead. 

"You all right, Gin?" It was Ron speaking to her. 

"What?" Ginny blinked, then shook her head a few times to clear every thing. The ballroom was fading and the familiar setting of her bedroom was surrounding her. She was currently in somewhat of a heap on the floor. "I'm confused," she muttered. 

"You must have fallen out of bed," Ron said, holding out a hand to help her up. As she moved her arm, she winced. It felt very tender and was, she realized as she looked at it, starting to bruise slightly. 

"Oh," seemed the only word in her vocabulary that was letting itself be spoken. She remembered coming upstairs to sleep, opting to miss the wedding reception because she didn't feel well. 

"And you must have hit your arm on something," Ron added, looking at the fresh bruise on her arm. 

"Yeah," Ginny replied. "I'm still not feeling all that well and . . . " she trailed off. 

"Of course," Ron said, standing up. "Mum just told me to check on you." With that, he left the room. 

A quick glance toward the window told Ginny that she must have been asleep. She blinked, clearing her head. _Extremely weird_, she thought to herself. _I guess I should change into my pyjamas, though_. It was a rational thought, the one that fuelled the actions of her getting to her feet. She walked over to her dresser and opened the drawer. 

As she got out her pyjamas for the night, Ginny glanced at the bouquet. She paused. Someone had put them in a vase of water and arranged them. However, that wasn't the strongest change. 

Now, the tips of the roses were stained with ink. 


	3. Chapter Two :: Tomorrow Never Knows

Random Author's Note: Snow days are a glorious thing for giving me time to work on this story so close to exams. I guess saying "I wish the goblins would make it a snow day tomorrow," _does_ work. :D And now exams are done, so therefore this chapter is too. Double :D 

Thanks to the Reviewers: And here we go: Professor Weasley (Yes, I know it has a _Phantom Shadows_ feel to it. I think this story is going to end up what I wanted that to be, but more deeper), Chocolate Muse (possible foreshadowing. ^_^ I'm toying with a rather interesting idea at the moment), Falco, Midnight, Vera Priscaleth (Oh, shivers? Really? I feel very honoured to have given someone shivers from my writing), Wednesday Blue, Kim The Manipaltive Little Mo, Kitsuneko, gooshiplollypop, One of Grace, darthmorgana, backtalons, Kiyoko, Catt. And if there's any questions about this fic you'd like to know the answers to, feel free to ask and I'll answer them to the best of my ability. 

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Friendly Neighbourhood Disclaimer: Characters not mine, plot is, I need my money for AnimeNorth, so please make with the lack of suing. 

Chapter Notes: I think I've figured out why I like writing about Tom & Ginny so much. They don't really have set "character" traits so I can manipulate them for my means. :D Yay. Lesse, what do we have this chapter? Hmm . . . flashback-y type stuff, Diagon Alley, Lucius Malfoy's obligatory appearance, scary skulls in the sky, mass mayhem and of course, our favourite heroine and somewhat-villian. Now, read on, Macduff! 

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Sometimes I feel I've got to run away, I've got to get away   
From the pain that you drive into the heart of me   
The love we share seems to go nowhere - I've lost my lights   
I toss and turn, I can't sleep at night.   
~ _Tainted Love_, Soft Cell

**Where Angels Burn**

**Chapter Two**

**Tomorrow Never Knows**

  


**23 June, 1942**

The red cuts were an insult to the whiteness of the pale skin of his torso. A blank expression stared back from the mirror. Blue eyes the colour of the ocean during a storm, which gave off the air of innocence. But his blue eyes weren't focused upon the reflection of his face. No, they were looking at the reflection of the angry looking cuts. 

"What happened to you, luv?" the mirror asked curiously. 

"Duelling accident." Tom replied softly, watching as blood still continued to seep from the cuts. The red liquid was running in small rivulets from their origin. Blood always seemed to seep from them, even hours after they were made. These cuts were made right over the fading scars of the other ones. Twin cuts, placed just below his ribcage. They were shallow cuts and no more than two inches wide. The knife they had been made with lay on the desk, its shining blade clean. 

Not for the first time, Tom was glad that Prefects received their own rooms. After all, he didn't really think that practising the Dark Arts would really go over well in a dormitory room. He took his wand out of his pocket, still staring in the mirror, "_medicor._" A simple healing spell couldn't completely heal the cuts - healing spells never worked really well on inscisions made for magickal usage. "_Ferula_," however, a quick bandaging spell took care of what the healing spell couldn't accomplish. A long loop of gauze erupted from the end of his wand and encircled his torso several times, covering the cuts. He placed his wand on his bedside table and picked up his shirt. He buttoned it up slowly, trying not to wince as the cuts expanded and contracted with his movements. If he slipped up and winced outside of his room, there would be questions asked. Normally, he would attribute it to a Quidditch injury, but as Slytherin hadn't had a Quidditch match in weeks, that excuse had gone out the window. 

Sitting beside his wand on the bedside table was a small black book. There was nothing spectacular about it, really. Tom had bought it at a store on Vauxhall Road prior to beginning his first year, intending to keep a thorough record of everything that happened to him. And a thorough record he had kept. Five years of classes, scribbles in the margins, random notes on interesting-looking spells and research on less than savoury things filled the pages. 

However, if someone were to pick it up tomorrow, the words would not be there. Tom reached into the drawer of the bedside table and drew out an ink bottle filled with a red liquid. 

"What are you doing, dear?" the mirror asked, curiosity being quite imbued in its nature. Tom looked at the mirror and crossed over to it. Swiftly, he took it off of the wall and placed it in his trunk. The mirror's next question was quite muffled as he closed the trunk. It wasn't important anyway. He placed the ink bottle on the small table and opened it. Next, he dipped the nib of a quill into it and then opened the diary to the last page, which was the only clean one in the book. He began to write. 

Words unspoken and thoughts untold

Can pour one who is worthy into their mould

Those from darkness which were stirred

Shall lie here, words unperturbed

For years to come, no one shall know

Of what darkness unbound can sow

Kindness is not a virtue but unwanted

And that who has it shall be dead

By that which in darkness came

It shall draw from one who is the same

Much more than a memory lies between

These pages, blank and serene

Pages, which blood now stains

So the ink no longer remains

Upon the pages, quiet and plain

Until the day when he shall rise again.

The liquid in the ink bottle was his own blood, which now formed the words on the page. Blood magick was some of the most powerful magick that existed and Tom was taking full advantage of that fact. It was often said that the smell that some of the most powerful castings left behind was the smell of blood. And he could definitely feel that the words written in blood held power. 

Tom picked up his wand and pressed the tip to the page in the diary. The blood was still wet and gleaming - it hadn't soaked into the page yet. "_Vivo vixi victum_," he whispered and a soft glow emanated from the tip of his wand. The glow grew even as he drew his wand back. Soon, the entire diary was glowing with a soft light. Tom watched, oddly fascinated. Quite suddenly, the light grew brighter and brighter until it suddenly flickered out completely. When the light vanished, there were no words left on the page. The blood had vanished. 

Seized by a sense of euphoria, Tom grabbed the diary and flipped through it frantically. Everything on the pages was blank, not a word anywhere in the book. He set the oddly warm book back down on his bedside table. 

A slow, eerie smile spread across his face in triumph.   
  


**17 August, 1996**

The roses had been removed from their perch upon her dresser. To appease her mother, Ginny had explained that the charm on them was wearing off and they were fading. It was a plausible story and the roses were now beneath the soil in the garden, decomposing and nurturing it. 

It was now two weeks after Percy and Penelope's wedding. The couple was away in France, finally taking their honeymoon. After the hubbub of the wedding, the Burrow seemed unnaturally quiet. Well, as quiet as the Burrow could get. It was almost lonely without Percy. Ginny reflected on this thought. Out of all her brothers, Percy had seemed the one closest to her - even more so than Ron. Probably because he had actually wanted to spend time with her. Charlie and Bill had been best friends, even when they went away to Hogwarts. Naturally, the twin spent all their time together, being twins. And Ron had gone with them, because they were boys and Ginny was just a girl, not a suitable playmate for a boy. That had left Percy. He had been the outsider in his own family for awhile and when Ginny had been born, he took it upon his responsibility to look after her. 

A random glance at the clock told Ginny that any given moment, her mother might call her downstairs, because today they were going school shopping. Ginny needed some new robes and the new textbook needed for this year. She didn't need _The Standard Book of Spells - Grade Five_, because she could use Ron's from last year. 

"Gin, we're leaving now!" And there came the predicted yell from downstairs. Only, it had been Ron who had shouted it, not her mother. "You better hurry up!" 

"I'm coming!" Ginny called back downstairs as she hurriedly got changed into something more suitable than a snitch and broomstick print nightgown. Of course, in trying to pull on a sock, do the buttons up on her shirt and brush her hair all at the same time, she had made a mistake. And the mistake ended up causing her to fall down and bump her shoulder off of the corner of her dresser. Rather hard, too. 

"Damn!" she hissed, clutching the injured limb. 

"Ginny!" 

"I said, I'll be there in a minute!" Ginny yelled back, attempting to massage the pain out of her shoulder. It wasn't working too well. At least if she got a bruise, the sleeves of her shirt would cover it and not cause any embarrassing questions to be asked. 

"Come on, come on," Molly Weasley said as Ginny entered the living room, hopping on one foot as she finished tying her shoe. As soon as she was done with that task, a handful of Floo powder was shoved into her hand. "Hurry up, Ron and the others have already gone on ahead." 

"Diagon Alley," Ginny called as she chucked the handful of powder into the already burning fire. The flames roared green and she felt the familiar twinge of apprehension as she stepped into the fireplace. Something about travelling by Floo powder always made her feel uneasy. _Oh, right,_ Ginny though as she was spun around and sent hurtling through the Floo network. _It's because the journey is nauseating_. 

Thankfully, before the nausea had fully set in, she was suddenly shot out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron. Ginny scrambled out of the way quickly, so that she wouldn't be knocked over as her mother came through. 

"Flourish and Blotts," Hermione was saying to Ron, a rather ticked off expression gracing her face. 

"Quality Quidditch Supplies." Ron shot back, folding his arms. "Tell her Harry. It's better to go to the Quidditch shop first. Supplies sell out very quickly." Harry just shifted uncomfortably. 

"Uhh . . ." The Boy Who Lived said, trying to make his one syllable answer sound neutral. "Oh, look, they have new drinks." With a hasty exit from the argument, Harry walked over to look at the menu which hung on the wall. 

Instantly, the two Gryffindors resumed their argument. 

"As do books," Hermione retorted to Ron's previous comment, her eyes darkening. Even though she was almost a full head shorter than him, she still could beat Ron at some things. Verbal arguing was usually one of them. 

Ginny shook her head as the argument continued. It was the same one as last year, the traditional decision of which shop to go into first. Although Ginny didn't really have any say in it. Because of the fact that Ron, Harry and Hermione were older than she was, her mother thought it was safe for the three of them to go shopping together. Of course, since Ginny was the youngest Weasley child, she was assured an escort from her mother around Diagon Alley on school shopping days. At this, said youngest Weasley child sighed and finished brushing the soot off of her clothing. Of course, while she was doing so, she was also turning around to glance at the fireplace. 

"Do watch where you're going, Miss Weasley." A sneer was audible in the quite recognizable voice. Of course, the last time Ginny had heard this voice had been around two years ago, a the Quidditch World Cup. 

"I'm afraid that I don't have eyes in the back of my head, Mr Malfoy." Ginny said, turning around. She kept her expression and voice as innocent as possible. "So it would be quite impossible for me to watch where I am going when I am walking backwards." 

"So you are not quite witless, after all," a slight raise of an eyebrow was the only change in Malfoy Senior's expression. 

"Great, it's Malfoy," Ginny heard her older brother mutter sarcastically under his breath as he spotted the younger Malfoy as well. 

"I have something you need, Miss Weasley," Ginny jumped slightly at the sudden touch to her elbow and the fact that Lucius Malfoy's voice came somewhere very near to her ear. 

"Haven't got kicked out of Hogwarts yet, Potter?" Draco sounded rather disappointed as tried to instigate some sort of confrontation with Harry. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr Malfoy," Ginny said slowly, stepping forward. As she did so, Lucius's light touch on her elbow changed to a tight grip. 

"I'm sure you do," Lucius said with a smile that had undertones of darkness. As Ginny turned to look him face on, he let go of her elbow and his hand disappeared into the folds of his robes. When it emerged, a black book was held in the pale, manicured hand. 

Ginny backed away. "Um, no. Definitely not." 

"Why not?" Lucius's smile grew slightly wider and more chilling. "I was under the impression that - " 

"Come on, Ginny." Ron was grabbing onto her arm and pulling her away. "Don't talk to him." 

Ginny allowed herself to be led away from the elder Malfoy, to where her mother (recently arrived from the Floo network), Harry and Hermione were. She glanced back only once as they stepped into Diagon Alley and saw Lucius still holding the diary. 

"Flourish and Blotts." 

"Quality Quidditch Supplies." 

Obviously, the argument between Ron and Hermione had not been solved yet. Even as the trio of sixth years wandered off, the first place they would go was still undecided. 

"Molly? Molly, is that you?" Turning, both the mother and daughter Weasleys saw a woman hurrying toward them. She had dark brown hair and eyes, which were gleaming with excitement, which was matched by the expression on her face. 

"Anenome?" Molly looked rather shocked. "I thought you were in New York." 

"I was, but I've come back to good old England for a visit," the woman - Anenome - said. As she talked, Ginny noticed that there was a slight Scottish tinge to her American accent. "I haven't seen you in forever!" 

"Quite a few years, it must be," Molly agreed. 

"And who is this lovely young girl?" Anenome turned to Ginny, who stiffened slightly at being called a "young girl". 

"This is my daughter, Ginny," Molly smiled. "Ginny, this is Anenome Moon, one of my old school friends." 

"Nice to meet you," Ginny smiled slightly and shook the woman's hand. She then turned to her mother, "what about my school supplies?" 

Molly looked slightly torn. She reached into her purse and pulled out a couple of Galleons. "Here, Ginny. You're old enough to buy your own things. Run and catch up with Ron and the others." 

Ginny was quite surprised, to say the least. However, she did the smart thing. Which was accepting the money and hurrying off in the direction that her brother and his friends had left in earlier. 

The size of the crowd in Diagon Alley was no different than the usual one. People walked in different directions, some ducking into stores, some coming out of stores with their purchases, to join the crowd. Ginny squeezed past a group of people and entered Flourish and Blotts. She stood by the entrance and looked around, trying to spot either the familiar red, brown or black hair. 

"Guess they went to Quality Quidditch Supplies first, instead," she muttered and walked back out into the crowd. There was a shortcut to the Quidditch supply store near Flourish and Blotts. It involved one of the alleyways, but Ginny wasn't exactly sure which one. Of course, the old nursery rhyme of "eenie meenie minie mo" could possibly help her at that point. 

With a rather confused air, she stood at an intersection of alleyways for a moment, before deciding to take the left one. As Ginny walked along, she noticed that it was getting dimmer. She stopped and rubbed her eyes. _Do I need glasses now?_ Ginny thought absently as she blinked. No, the light of day was still fading. 

She turned around to look at the other shoppers, to see if it was just her that was experiencing this loss of light. But no, the others around her looked confused and a mumble of increasingly bewildered chatter was streaming from their mouths. Ginny blinked and placed a hand on the wall near her. After all, with the constantly dimming light, it would help her not to crash into anything. 

"Is it an eclipse?" 

"The Daily Prophet didn't say anything about one." That was what the pair closest to her were saying as the sky finished fading. It was now so dark that Ginny couldn't even see her own hand less than two feet in front of her face. 

However, the brilliant green skull that lit up the sky was easily visible to everyone. Ginny stumbled backward, her brain failing to function for a moment. In that moment, a terrified hush fell upon the crowd in Diagon Alley. It was as if time had stopped. However, the silence and the feeling of absolute stillness was shattered in an instant. 

"_Avada Kedavra_!" It was a chorus of voices and the crowd panicked as the bolts of green light flew through the crowd, killing the first person they hit. Horrified, Ginny watched as one of the curses hit a person five feet from her. The fight or flight mechanism was taking effect in her brain. 

She turned and fled down the alleyway, away from the chaos in Diagon Alley. She turned the first corner she came to, not knowing where she was heading in the darkness. Panic was clouding her mind and impairing her judgement. 

However, her fleeing came to an abrupt halt as she crashed rather painfully into a wall. Ginny fell to the ground, injuring her tailbone. She sat there for a moment, before getting back up. Now that her eyes were somewhat adjusted to the unnatural darkness, she could make out the faint out lines of certain things. Such as the door in the wall she had bumped into. Without thinking, she climbed to her feet and twisted the handle on the door. Locked. 

However that was easily remedied. "_Alohomora_!" 

The door swung open easily now and Ginny stepped inside the building. She didn't know what it was, but it was probably much safer to be inside a building than be out in Diagon Alley. However, now the blind panic that had taken over was beginning to abate. 

"Mum," she whispered, sinking to the floor. Her mother was out there. And so was Ron. So were Harry and Hermione. Ginny's eyes widened and filled with tears. Maybe there was another entrance to this place, near Diagon Alley? Maybe she could somehow see them? 

"Oh, Gods, what if they're dead?" Ginny whispered, her voice sounding incredibly tiny in the dark room she was in. _I've got to do something_, she thought desperately. Slowly, she got to her feet, keeping her wand clutched in her hand. She had the feeling that her knuckles would be white if she could see them. "_Lumos_," she whispered and a beam of light streamed from the edge of her wand. 

She walked forward, keeping the trail of light in front of her. The way the floor of the building she was in was laid out, it seemed to be some sort of a house, instead of a store. _The Leaky Cauldron?_ Ginny wondered, _no, it's on the other end of the street_. She wondered if her mother was in there, having tea with her friend or something. 

There was a window in the next room; she could see it through the doorway from the room she was in. "_Nox._" With that command, the light from the end of her wand vanished. Quietly, in the darkness, Ginny crept forward. She could see beams of vivid green light being shot across the street. Death Eaters. Ginny shivered. She knew she was lucky to have got away when she did. 

"But what about the people who weren't able to get away?" She found herself whispering out loud. 

"What about them, indeed?" 

The voice nearly caused her to have a heart attack. 

"_L-Lumos_," Ginny's voice was shaky as she intoned the spell. Slowly she turned around, not really wanting to see who was in the room with her. However, she had to know. She gulped audibly when she saw who it was. And it was just who she thought it was going to be, too. Which made the situation a whole lot worse. 

Tom Riddle sat in a chair, his feet propped up on a table. He held a small black book in his right hand and a quill in his right. Slowly, he closed the black book - the diary, Ginny dazedly corrected herself - and placed it in a pocket in his midnight-hued robes. 

"Why, hello, love." 

Tom's smile was slow and sinisterly eerie.   



	4. Chapter Three :: Lost it All When I Foun...

Random Author's Note: CSI makes me write. Lots. I don't know why either. And if you'll excuse me, I'll be off squee-ing about the news of a possible _Labyrinth_ sequel. 

Thanks to the Reviewers: And here we go: Falco (actually, it's just a coincidence. No Death Eater-ism for Anenome. I'd be surprised if she's even in it after this chapter. She's just a random character), liltrick89, Drusilla (I'm assuming you're a Buffy fan by your name? ^_^), Professor Weasley, ZiZzAmIzZ (I think that's the longest review I've got from someone. ^_^), Snicks, Catt, ChibiSuga (Cliff-hangers can be so cruel, just as I can be so cruel :D) As always, feel free to ask questions and I'll do my best to answer them without giving away too much. 

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Friendly Neighbourhood Disclaimer: Clearly, you can tell what I do and don't own. If not, please leave. Now. 

Chapter Notes: Ah, the opening scene for this chapter has been in my head for quite awhile now and was actually planned out before I started this fic. One of Tom, one of Ginny. In a room for most of the chapter. Alone. You do the math. Oh, and Tom swears this chapter. :D 

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Why would I chase your shadow all my life   
And be afraid of my own?   
I'd rather be with you, I'd rather not know   
Where I'll be than be alone and convinced that I know   
~ _Spin_, Lifehouse

**Where Angels Burn**

**Chapter Three**

**Lost it All When I Found You**

Tom smiled slowly at Ginny. He savoured the moment as he tucked the diary away in the pocket of his robes. "Why, hello, love." His tone of voice was pleasant, as if he was meeting someone for afternoon tea or something equally as normal as that. 

"Oh, Gods, no." Ginny whispered, barely able to get the words through her trembling lips. Her limbs seemed to turn into water and she was vaguely aware that she dropped her wand. 

"You do realize, this is just a beacon for them," Tom said, walking forward. He bent down to pick up Ginny's wand, but he never took his eyes off of her face. Ginny squeaked as he raised the wand. However, much to her relief, he only waved it in the direction of the window. Instantly, there was no window. And just as instantly, the room was filled with a soft light. "Handy little trick, isn't it?" 

Tom's tone of voice was careless as he dropped Ginny's wand into his pocket, to rest beside the diary. He moved toward Ginny, who was beginning to completely freak out. 

If one could look inside Ginny Weasley's mind at that moment, they would have seen a jumble of thoughts, all somewhat along the same theme as _Oh, no, oh no, no, no_ and the same idea. She backed up as Tom drew closer. Suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder. She yelped in surprise. 

"Ah, none of that now, Ginny love," Tom said softly, soothingly. His grip upon Ginny's shoulder was slightly loose, but it was tight enough so that it sent a warning signal throughout her nervous system. He pulled her gently toward him, then let his hand fall back to his side. 

"What are you doing here?" Ginny finally scraped together enough wit to ask. "And the diary . . ." she trailed off, glancing toward the right side of his jacket. 

"Chaos, panic and disorder," Tom said, a vaguely dreamy expression coming over his face. "It really is so much fun to cause any of those three that I can't pass up the chance of causing all three at the same time." He was walking around her now, surveying her. Ginny stood stiff as a board, basically because she was too frightened to do anything else. After all, it wasn't every day one met up with the younger incarnation of Lord Voldemort. 

He was now standing in front of her. And rather entirely too close for comfort, as well. Ginny quite felt that her personal space was being invaded. However, now that Tom was standing in such close proximity to her, she was able to get a better look at him. 

He was dressed rather differently from the last time she had really seen him, which had been in the Chamber of Secrets. Ginny was refusing to even acknowledge her dream-like trance. At this particular meeting here and now, Tom was wearing dark clothing - which wasn't too out of the ordinary, as dark clothing usually hints that a person is a villain. His shirt was a dark green and made out of velvet, or possibly silk. The light was dim enough in the room that Ginny wasn't all together too sure at what fabric Tom's shirt was made out of. Not that she really cared, of course. And she didn't really care of the fact that the shirt looked rather good on him. Although she was feeling rather under-dressed in a short-sleeved button-down shirt, denim capri pants and brown sandals. Of course, the uncomfortable feeling probably just wasn't coming from being under-dressed. 

No, the uncomfortable feeling was coming from the fact that Tom was eyeing her with a rather wolfish expression. He was eyeing her like she was some kind of prey. And prey probably felt very much like how Ginny Weasley was feeling at the moment. 

"How come you have the diary?" Ginny suddenly blurted out into the silence. With a slightly sickened feeling, she realized that there had been no sound from Diagon Alley since Tom had somehow made the window vanish. 

"Now that, Ginny, is a very interesting question," Tom said, pulling Ginny's wand out of the pocket of the long, black robes he wore. He began twirling it lazily, not even looking at it. Ginny's attention, however, had strayed to the wand. Presumably because it was emitting green sparks as Tom twirled it. "I'm not going to tell you the answer, of course." 

This caused Ginny's already weak courage to falter again. 

"Isn't it funny," Tom began, as he took the diary out of his pocket and looked at it with a faint touch of reverence. "How such a small object can cause so much pain and suffering?" He dropped the diary back into his pocket, then returned his attention to Ginny, a smile of fiendish glee upon his face. "No, seriously. It is rather amusing." 

Ginny's eyebrows raised of their own accord at this comment of Tom's. _Okay, he is definitely as deranged as he was when I last saw him_. Ginny thought wryly. She was slowly inching toward where the door was. After all, being stuck in a room in which the only one with a wand was Tom, a hasty exit was preferable. 

"No, don't do that," Tom said quite suddenly. As a matter of fact, the command came just as Ginny's hand was almost on the doorknob. _Rotten timing_, she thought ruefully. "It isn't really good for me if you escape, you see." There was a slight flick of the wand he held in the direction of Ginny and she flinched, expecting him to cast a hex on her or something. Tom then pocketed the wand, a smile on his face. 

"Ah, much better," Tom was now sounding rather pleased with himself. "Don't you agree?" Ginny just stood there, looking rather confused. A slight expression of exasperating flitted across Tom's face. "Well, turn around." 

"Why?" Ginny asked, wanting to turn around but at the same time, she was completely terrified of the prospect. 

Tom's expression instantly turned from one of cruel amusement to one that was so utterly blank that it was terrifying. It was as if someone had flicked a light switch. Ginny had seen him do this numerous times before. He strode over to her so quickly that she would have sworn that he had Apparated the few feet between them. His hands slammed into the wall behind her, one on each side of her head. 

"Because," Tom said softly, so soft that she almost had to strain to hear him, even though his face was oh, so very close to her own. Ginny's eyes were wide as she stared into Tom's now-red ones, which were a mere few centimetres away from her own. "Because I want to see the expression on your face when you realize that there is absolutely no way to get out of this room until I let you go." He laughed slightly then, a noise that came and went with the slight curl of his lips. "Now, turn the fuck around, Ginny." 

Ginny obeyed. She turned around slowly, hardly daring to breathe. Tom had been telling the truth. The door was gone and there was a solid wall where it had last been. She heard his chuckled and felt his breath move the hair by her ear. He was close, too close. She could easily move not even a half-step back and she would be leaning right against him. 

"What did you do, Tom?" she demanded, trying to inject more authority into her voice than she felt at the moment. The only reply was Tom's soft laughter again. Ginny turned around to face him. "What did you do?" Her voice was louder now, more demanding and yet more panicked. 

"Simple spell, really," Tom admitted slowly. He rested his forehead against Ginny's now and she stepped backward, so that her back hit the wall. Of course, this only caused Tom to move closer. 

"Undo it," Ginny ordered, her eyes darting around. He was so close that he was the only thing that filled her vision at the moment. She glanced down at the floor, at the ceiling, at his chin, anywhere but his eyes. However, the thing that caught her attention was the fact that the pocket in which her wand and the diary resided was within arm's distance. 

"And are you going to make me undo it, little Ginny?" It was a challenge and an invitation in one. 

Ginny raised her chin and looked him in the eye. "Yes." 

This surprised Tom. It obviously wasn't the answer he had been expecting to hear. _Ha_, Ginny thought semi-victoriously, _the last time he saw me was when I was eleven. And he probably didn't expect me to change so much_. Of course, what Ginny did next probably surprised Tom even more. She reached out and grabbed at his pocket. Her hand closed upon something and she yanked. Then, she ducked out from between Tom's arms and darted to the side. 

Tom's eyes narrowed dangerously as Ginny clutched the diary close. Not the item she had intended to grab, but maybe it could have its uses. 

"Ginny, give me back the dairy." His voice was completely level as he folded his arms. 

"No." An immensely childish reply it definitely was. Ginny briefly toyed with the idea of stuffing the diary down her shirt, but knowing Tom the way she did, he probably would grab it and rip half the buttons off of her shirt in the process. 

"Ginny, we've been through this once before and I won that time." Tom was sounding infinitely patient now. That was always a sure sign that he was immensely ticked off.   


**June 1992**

"Ginny love, I need for you to give me the diary," Tom said kindly, kneeling in front of her. She was sitting on the stone floor of the Chamber of Secrets, her socks and the bottom of her skirt soaked. 

Ginny clutched the diary to her and looked up with wide eyes. "Why?" 

"To finish this, I need to have the diary," Tom said in his way of explaining and yet at the same time, confusing her more. 

"But I want to keep it," Ginny said. 

"Ginny, you're acting like a child," Tom said, sounding disappointed. "I thought you were above -- " 

"I am not acting like a child!" Ginny yelped, her expression turning into a furious one. 

"Ginny -- " 

"No!" Ginny cried forcefully. "It's _my_ diary! Mine!" 

"Ginny love," Tom reached out and stroked the side of her face. "You know what is going to happen." At Ginny's nod, he continued. "And for that to happen, I need the diary." 

"Can't you do it without the diary?" Ginny asked pitifully. 

"I'm afraid not, Ginny," Tom said, his fingers now playing with the strands of her hair. "You need to understand that I need the diary to make myself fully human again." 

"I understand that," Ginny replied, chewing her lip. She could feel her nails digging into the leather cover of the diary and knew that there would be little half-moon markings when she let it go. "But it's the only thing . . . " she trailed off, adverting her eyes from Tom's face. 

"The only thing what, Ginny?" Tom asked, moving his hand to her chin. Slowly, he forced her to look him in the eye. 

Tears began to well up in Ginny's eyes. "If your thing doesn't work, then this will be the only thing that I have left of you!" 

Tom instantly let go of her chin and sat back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Ginny, I've told you countless times; nothing is going to go wrong." 

"But what if it -- " Ginny was cut off by Tom lying two fingers on her mouth. 

"Nothing will go wrong, Ginny," Tom repeated forcefully as he withdrew his hand, then held it out, palm up. "The diary, Ginny." 

Willingly, Ginny surrendered the diary.   
  


**27 August, 1996**

  
  


However, Tom's pseudo infinite patience evidently was wearing off. "Give me the damn diary, Ginny." 

"I will not," Ginny fired back. Ah, there. Somehow, with the diary back in her possession, she was feeling stronger and less frightened. Her arms were folded across her chest, with the diary tucked between them. 

"Ginny, I'm being very patient," Tom said, "And if you do not give me back the diary _this very instant_, I will hex you." 

"You wouldn't dare," Ginny replied. "If you hex me, then there's no way in hell that you'll be getting this diary back." 

Tom sighed, almost wearily. "Ginny love, I don't really feel like playing your little games right now -- " 

"Little games?" Ginny was all but shrieking at the outrageousness of it all. "Little games?" she repeated, her tone of voice dangerously low. "You lock me in a room without any possible escapes, threaten me -- " 

"I did not threaten you," Tom said softly, keeping his hand near the pocket which contained Ginny's wand. 

" -- and then tell me it's a game?" Ginny finished, glaring fiercely at Tom. It was safe to say, that if looks could kill, Tom would be a corpse before he hit the ground. 

"But it is a game, Ginny," Tom said, smiling cruelly. He stepped forward and Ginny stepped back at the same instant. She became aware that the table in the room was pressing into her back. "And though it is a very amusing game, I will have to demand my diary back now." 

"And I demand my wand back. And my freedom!" Ginny spat back. "But let's see? I don't have any of those things at the moment, do I!" Her voice rose in pitch until it was akin to an unearthly screeching. 

Tom flew at her suddenly and she half-expected him to tackle her. She shoved the diary behind her back and held it there tightly as he stopped right in front of her. Once again, he was invading her personal space. She tried to move backward to get away, but as the table was there, it was highly impossible. Ginny gave a sort of half-squeak as she lost her balance and fell backward against the table, effectively trapping her arms and the diary beneath her back. The down side of that was that she was sort-of bent backwards so that she was lying on the table. 

Of course, her position caused Tom to laugh slightly. "Ginny love, you are all together too amusing." He was now bending over her, with his hands once again, resting near her head, to prop himself up. Another thing that Ginny noticed was that his hips were pressed against hers. 

"Don't call me Ginny love," Ginny said through gritted teeth. Her arms were beginning to go numb and her spine was beginning to hurt. 

"And why not?" Tom asked, eyes wide and the perfect picture of innocence. Of course, he added the taunt, "Ginny love." 

"Get away," Ginny demanded. "Get the hell away from me." 

Tom's face got a whole lot closer. It was so close that if either of them moved a fraction of an inch closer to each other, they would have been kissing. 

"As you wish, Ginny love," he breathed into her mouth. Then, suddenly, he was gone. Ginny blinked and slowly somehow managed to return to a standing position. But still, she clutched the diary tightly. Only this time, she made sure to keep her arms in front of her. She looked around cautiously to try and see him. But Tom was definitely gone. Or invisible. A chill strutted its way down her spine as she thought that. Slowly, she turned in a circle, surveying the room. 

It was still exit-less. She let out a deep breath that she hadn't even realized she was holding. And then arms suddenly encircled her waist. 

Ginny screamed and darted forward, trying to escape. However, no such luck happened to her. She was yanked back against Tom's body as he laughed slowly and quietly. Oh, how she was really beginning to hate that laughter. 

"Don't be so frightened, it's only me." That was an oxymoron if she had ever heard one. Don't be frightened of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Now, that was a laugh. 

"Let me go," Ginny said with quiet fury. She made sure that her grip on the diary was tight. 

"That wouldn't be any fun, love," Tom whispered in her ear. He slowly moved his hands so that they rested on her hips. "And besides, you have something of mine." 

Ginny tried to break out of his grip, but unfortunately, it was very strong. 

"And I'm not letting you go until I get it back." 

At this, Ginny growled softly. Which only caused Tom to laugh once more. 

Silence fell between them. 

Until Ginny felt lips close on her cheek. She jumped violently. "What the hell was that?" 

"Ginny, there are three ways to get things done," Tom said, whispering right into her ear. "The easy way, the hard way and the fun way." Throughout his little explaination, he was dropping feather-light kisses along her throat. He nudged her hair aside with his chin. "You disregarded the easy way and I don't feel like going through the trouble that the hard way entails. That leaves the fun way." 

At the end of that sentence, he bit down on her neck. Not enough to draw blood, but definitely not gentle in any way. The bite invoked a cry from Ginny. Which in turn invoked a chuckle from Tom. Ginny could feel his lips vibrating against her throat, but she didn't let that distract her. No, she was going to keep hold of this diary until hell froze over. Until then, she would just have to bear the alternating kisses and bites along her throat. 

"Relax, Ginny," Tom said, pulling one arm tighter around her waist and moving his other one up to her own, which clutched the diary. He tried to pull her hands away, but she held firm. "This can be quite enjoyable for you." 

"Stuff it, Riddle." Ginny commanded, entertaining the idea of biting his hand - the one that was trying to take the diary. _But no, he'd probably like that_, Ginny thought sourly. Needless to say, she was surprised when Tom left off trying to get the diary. Instead, he moved his hand to caress the side of her face. 

Shivers were now dancing their merry way up her spine. Partially from the kisses and partially from the fact that the hand that Tom had near her waist was slowly creeping its way up the side of her shirt. Ginny twisted in his arms, trying to get away. She felt Tom stop kissing - biting - doing whatever to her neck and his hand stopped caressing the side of her face. Now, it was slowly turning her face to the side. She felt Tom slowly step around her and turn her in his arms so that they were face to face, with him still holding a firm grip on her chin. 

"Give me the diary, Ginny," Tom said, his eyes dancing with something akin to delight. 

"Not on your life," Ginny ground out. 

"Fine then," Tom said. Those were the last few words that either of them spoke for a few moments. Most likely due to the fact that Ginny suddenly found Tom's lips upon her own. 

Of course, the natural reaction if one is being kissed, is to kiss back. Which is what Ginny found herself doing. As well as closing her eyes. As well as noticing that Tom, aside from being an evil overlord, was a rather good kisser. As well as loosening her grip on the diary. 

Then, quite suddenly, the kiss was over. Ginny opened her eyes in surprise and discovered that the diary was now gone from her grasp. And that Tom was grinning victoriously, tucking the diary into the pocket of his robes. 

"I told you it could be quite enjoyable," Tom taunted her, pulling Ginny's wand out. He flicked it and instantly, the window and door reappeared. As that happened, Tom disappeared. 

The only sound was the soft clatter that Ginny's wand made as it fell to the floor. Ginny herself reached a hand up to her lips and whimpered slightly. 


End file.
